


A Mother's Love

by TheEmcee



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Mother Complex, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmcee/pseuds/TheEmcee
Summary: Instead of running away after Brahms killed Cole, Greta, rather shell shocked by what just happened, makes the decision to stay.
Relationships: Greta Evans/Brahms Heelshire
Comments: 4
Kudos: 128





	A Mother's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the fandom.
> 
> A/N: I just recently watched The Boy and I love it. I'm very particular about my horror movies, and although the movie is creepy, I wouldn't exactly call it a horror movie. Regardless, I find myself crushing hard on adult Brahms. Can you blame me? And I felt the urge to write a fic, so here ya go. Feel free to comment on the towel section down below and enjoy.

~...~

A Mother's Love

~...~

Greta watched as Brahms strangled and beat Cole senseless. The man who had terrorized her, killed her baby, hunted her down, and destroyed the Brahms doll was finally getting his comeuppance, and yet she didn't feel happy. She wasn't overwhelmed with joy or relief. And when Brahms grabbed thatp porcelain shard and stabbed Cole in the neck, she cried out. The man who she had loved at one point and then grew to fear above all else, was bleeding, dying before her very eyes. Yet she wasn't happy or relieved. She was exhausted and sad, so very sad.

And frightened.

She could feel her body trembling with fear, but she couldn't move. Greta was glued to the spot and she could vaguely hear Malcolm's voice, shouting at her to move, to run, to get away from him, but she didn't. He grabbed her wrist and tried to force her to follow him, yet she was as still as stone and just as difficult to move. Her eyes were fixated on Cole's dead body. And then, Brahms rose up from the ground, standing tall and strong. His eyes found hers and she instantly felt the same connection she had shared with the doll. There had never been a ghost; there had only ever been Brahms, alive and living in the walls. He was real, flesh and blood, and so strong, strong enough to murder Cole. But he was still Brahms, her Brahms.

"Brahms," Greta croaked, her throat dry, her voice hoarse. 

He stepped towards her, his tall form towered over her, making her feel so small and delicate. Even though she had just witnessed him kill Cole, Greta knew that Brahms would never hurt her. The rage that had been in his eyes when he had been on top of Cole had subsided; now, he looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in his world. Such intensity frightened her even more, but she wouldn't abandon him. She refused to. 

"Greta, we need to go now!" Malcolm all but shouted. 

Brahms turned his attention to the grocery boy and anger once again filled his eyes. Greta quickly stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his chest. That stopped Brahms in his tracks and he gazed down at her, tilting his head to the side.

"Brahms, you...you were s-such a g-good boy. Thank you for helping me," she said quickly. "But Malcolm is our friend, right? You like him? Let him go, Brahms."

Brahms stared at her for a long moment before he turned to Malcolm. His gaze was unreadable, but Greta had a feeling that he was conflicted. And unconvinced.

"Pleae, Brahms, let Malcolm go, and I'll stay. I'll stay right here with you, just like I promised," Greta continued.

"Greta, no-" Malcolm began, taking a step toward her. Brahms moved in front of her, shielding her from him. Greta clung to his cardigan sweater, her hands shaking as she held onto him, hoping her touch would be enough to ground him.

"Malcolm, this isn't your choice to make. It's mine," Greta said a bit too sharply. 

She felt guilty, but she was frightened and trying to diffuse the situation without screaming her head off. In the back of her mind, she was aware that she wasn't acting normally; she was in shock and not truly registering what had just happened. Greta hadn't been able to save Cole, but she would do her damnedest to save Malcolm, her one true friend in this country. But he wasn't exactly helping the situation. While she was grateful that he cared about her well-being, she wished that he would trust her. 

"You don't need to worry. Brahms would never hurt me. Isn't that right, Brahms?" Greta asked in a shaky voice. Brahms turned to her and nodded his head vigorously.

"I could never hurt you, Greta," came a childlike voice from behind the mask. She met his gaze and saw the sincerity and the love he felt for her. 

"See, Malcolm? I'll be just fine," Greta reassured him. "This can be our little secret, right?" She nodded, never taking her eyes off of Brahms. 

"Our...our secret?" Malcolm sounded flabbergasted. Out of the corner of her eye, Greta saw that he looked utterly stunned. 

"Yes, our secret. All of ours. And we don't tell secrets, do we?" Greta asked. "Will you let him go if he promises not to tell, Brahms? Will you be a good boy and do that for me?" 

She reached up and put her hand on Brahms' cheek. A soft, barely audible sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes. He nodded and Greta relaxed just a little.

"You're such a good boy, Brahms. You've made me...s-so proud," Greta told him. He nuzzled her hand and opened his eyes slightly. The look he gave her made her blush and she cleared her throat.

"Malcolm, you can go now," she said. At her words, Malcolm hesitated, obviously uncomfortable and deeply concerned.

"Are...are you sure you'll be alright?" He asked tentatively. Greta nodded.

"Yes. I'll be just fine," she replied. She tore her gaze from Brahms to Malcolm. "Just remember to keep your promise."

'If you don't, you might die', she thought to herself. Malcolm seemed to understand her, though, because he nodded.

"Of course. You have my word," Malcolm swore. 

"Thank you, Malcolm," Greta said softly as she watched him go. She turned back to Brahms after she heard the door close.

"Thank you, Brahms, so, so much. You've made me so happy," Greta said. His eyes shone brightly and she could tell that he was smiling beneath his mask.

"Kiss?" Brahms asked so softly. Greta couldn't help but smile just a little.

All Brahms ever wanted was to be loved, cared for, and wanted. He had been so lonely for so long, had been deprived of affection for years. Greta's heart ached for him. They weren't so different from each other; both of them were broken and both of them wanted to be truly loved and cared for. His parents had been afraid of him, had hurt him, burned him, and forced him to live in the walls of the mansion. Even before tonight, she had felt a close bond with the man, even before she knew he was alive and had been living in the house the entire time. That connection wasn't going to fade so easily. Truth be told, she didn't want it to anyway.

Brahms was so close to her now, his looming figure towered over her and his breathing intensified. His masked face was close to hers and she felt compelled to reach up and touch him. So that's what she did. She placed her hands on Brahms' chest, her fingers brushing against his thick chest hair softly. He inhaled sharply and pressed his forehead against hers. Heat pooled in her belly as she listened to him making kissing noises behind the mask. Greta knew that she wasn't reacting rationally. She knew she was in shock and not making any sense in the slightest. Realistically, she should have left with Malcolm; she should have run for her life the moment Brahms had killed Cole, but she hasn't. She couldn't. Wouldn't. This was her Brahms, and she had promised that she wouldn't leave him.

"Yes, you deserve a kiss, Brahms. Good boys deserve kisses," Greta answered him.

Fear was still gripping her in a vice; her hands were shaking, but she wasn't going to abandon him. She wasn't going to run away from this man who was just as alone and broken as she was. Instead, she stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his porcelain lips. Brahms moaned softly and pressed his mask against her lips. His arms came up and wrapped around her. Though he was strong, stronger than she could ever be, Greta knew that she could break free if she wanted to. She didn't. Deep down, Greta knew that she cared for him, perhaps loved him even, but as a mother? A lover? As what? Was it pity she felt?

So many emotions were warring inside of her. She didn't know what to think or what to feel. All she knew was the Cole was dead. Malcolm was safe for now, and Brahms was here, holding her. Pulling away, she buried her face against his neck and gently kissed him. Greta hadn't realized that she was crying until she felt a wetness against her cheek. 

"Don't cry, Greta," Brahms pleaded with her, sounding so heartbroken. "I'll be good. I promise."

"B-Brahms," Greta sobbed.

Without an effort at all, Brahms scooped her up and carried her away from the room, away from Cole and death. She clung to him, face still buried in his neck, his beard scratching her gently. His musky scent filled her lungs and something stirred inside of her, a longing that she hadn't felt in quite a while. The tears stopped and Greta was able to compose herself well enough by the time they entered Brahms' bedroom. She cleared her throat as Brahms set her down on the bed. 

"I...I'm sorry, Brahms. I hope I didn't worry you," Greta hastily apologized.

"Greta," Brahms said as he gently pushed her back onto the bed. He crawled onto it and hovered over her, his eyes watching her, studying her carefully, yet never losing the love in them. 

"Oh, Brahms," Greta sighed softly. There was a strong want within her, but for what? Part of her knew, but she didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Greta," Brahms repeated, his voice losing its childlike tone and instead sounding closer to his real one.

"Do you love me, Brahms?" Greta asked, unable to stop herself. She didn't even know why she asked him. Her mind was going blank, stopping her from thinking and comprehending what happened mere minutes ago.

"Of course I love you, Greta," Brahms answered without hesitation. He reached up and caressed her face oh, so gently. "My Greta..."

When he leaned down to kiss her with his porcelain lips, she didn't pull away or trying to stop him. Instead, she embraced it, embraced him, and returned the kiss. It was soft and gentle at first, but soon turned passionate and full of desire and lust. Greta gasped as she felt Brahms adjust above her, parting her legs and pressing his body against her own. She could feel how hard he was and it thrilled her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Greta pulled Brahms closer and kissed all over his mask, and then his jawline and neck. He moaned and she felt more than heard it and it made her shiver. Her body was tingling as she pressed her hips up against his and his hands dove into her hair, gently gliding through the silken strands. 

"Brahms, I...I want to feel you," Greta said after pulling away. "All of you." 

Understanding filled Brahms eyes and he stood up. Greta removed her hoodie and her top before she met Brahms' intense gaze and took off the rest of her clothes. His hungry eyes drank her in and Greta's face flushed. The way he stared at her, as though she were the most beautiful and precious treasure he could ever ask for, made her feel something she had never experienced before. She wasn't sure how to take it, but she stopped worrying about it when Brahms shed everything except his mask. 

Once more, Greta was overwhelmed by how tall Brahms was and although he was lean, he was toned. There were burn scars on the right side of his body and Greta felt her heart squeeze. His parents had done this to him, had hurt him so, yet he was still an attractive man. When her eyes traveled down his body and fell on his erect member, her eyes widened. He was big, long, and thick and her core trembled, aching to have that inside of her. Brahms, bless his heart, looked a bit self-conscious and Greta gave him a gentle smile as she reached for him, bringing him back to her. 

"You're a handsome boy, Brahms," she said gently. "Even with so many scars..." 

She felt him tense in her arms and she kissed his neck, nibbling softly at it every so often. Brahms sighed softly and pressed his mask against her face, making kissing noises behind it. Greta laid back down on the bed, pulling Brahms with her. His hands, though shaking, roamed her body, exploring every crevice, his touch gentle and curious. Moans and gasps tumbled from Greta's mouth as Brahms touched her and she arched up against him, grinding her hips against his. Brahms inhaled sharply before he sighed and mimicked her actions, his hard and leaking cock rubbing against her wet folds and clitoris. 

"Oh, Brahms, you're doing so well," Greta moaned out as Brahms massaged her breasts with his large hands. 

Brahms hips jerked forward and rubbed her clitoris, causing Greta to gasp and curl her toes. She reached down and lined him up with her folds. With a gentle, steady hand, Greta helped guide Brahms into her, pulling back when he was partially inside. Moaning loudly, Brahms buried himself deep inside of her, his body trembling as he stopped. Greta was panting and quivering beneath him; it had been so long since she had made love. With Cole, it had never been anything so sweet and purr, but with Brahms, all she felt was love and adoration. 

"I know you'll make me proud, Brahms," Greta told him as she kissed his jaw and neck. "I know you'll make me feel good, won't you?" 

All Brahms could do was nod his head and he pulled out and thrust back in. His rhythm was sloppy, but he held onto Greta as he thrust into her, moving his hips as she moved hera, trying to match her movements and pace. After a few tries he eventually got the pace and precision right, hitting Greta right where she needed it and making pleasure surge throughout her body. The bed rocked beneath them as Brahms started going faster and harder, listening to Greta's moans and her praises.

"Ah! Brahms, you-you're doing so...so well. You're ma-making me fe-feel so good!" Greta exclaimed. "You're such a good...a good boy. You're so...good...making lo-ove to me."

With each word Brahms fucked her harder and faster, hips jerking madly. Moans tumbled from behind his mask and Greta clung to him, keeping him close to her and lavishing him with kisses. He was close, she could tell, and so was she. Her body was alight with lust and pleasure and the heat that had started pooling in her belly earlier was rising inside of her, pulling her under, drowning her. 

Brahms was erratic and pounding into Greta's body relentlessly. It was all too much for her and she arched up as she cried out, unleashing the fire from inside of her as she reached climax. The tightening of her walls around his cock was all it took for Brahms to come himself, buried deep inside of her. His eyes rolled back into his head and cried out loudly. Greta rode out her orgasm on his cock, sucking him in deeper and drinking his seed.

Panting, lightheaded, and his body soaked with sweat, Brahms collapsed on top of Greta. His head was resting on her breasts and his breath ghosted over her erect nipples. Greta held him in her warms, her fingers stroking his wet hair, and she kissed the top of his head.

"You did so very well, Brahma. I'm so proud of you," Greta said to him through pants. Brahms sighed happily and cuddled closer to her.

"Can we do that again?" Brahms asked, looking up at her through his madk, his eyes hopefully and excited. His cock was still buried inside of her. Greta smiled at him.

"Of course we can, Brahms," she replied.

In the back of her mind, Greta was aware of how this looked. Brahms saw her as a mother and a lover and she was only fueling that fire, saying things to him that a mother would while making love to him. Yet she couldn't find it in her to care right now. She still hadn't processed Cole's death. 

Tomorrow.

She would do all of that tomorrow. But for right now, all she wanted to do was rest. Greta slept for some time until Brahms woke her up, thrusting into her sore body as his masked face nuzzled her breasts. 

She wasn't going to leave this man. Not now, perhaps not ever. Brahms would never hurt her. Not ever.


End file.
